The Sharpest Life
by Angel-May
Summary: A oneshot story about Roger's life in between April and Mimi. SongFic


**The Sharpest Life – A Roger Davis Story**

He hadn't a clue how he managed to get so drunk after leaving 'The Loft' on his own, Mark having a need to fix his camera, yet he had and here he was stumbling in the streets of Avenue A, the rain pouring down on top of him in torrents, his sopping hair mercilessly thrown back, away from his unfocused eyes. He attempted to see clearly but failed miserably. _Well it rains and it pours when you're out on your own_.

Once reaching the loft, after a long-winded trip up many flights of stairs where he probably woke the entire building by crashing into the dirt-stained walls, he thumped as hard as possible, hoping to wake Mark up, who actually wasn't even asleep,

"Roger, would you stop that insane banging, you're waking up the entire building" Mark hissed, pulling his oblivious best friend into the cold loft they shared, where said drunk man immediately fell into the couch, shoes carelessly tossed aside. _If I crash on the couch can I sleep in my clothes?_

"Where the fuck have you been?" Mark asked, picking up the previously mentioned shoes and setting them next to the couch that Roger had taken residence on,

"I 'unno" was the reply he got, Roger's words slurred and muffled by the pillow he had found a liking to, "Dance…club…lots of drink" Mark was able to decipher. _'Cause I've spent the night dancing, I'm drunk I suppose._

"Do you know that you're killing yourself?" The blonde, Jewish man asked his drunk friend, to which he got a strange mumbling, which to him sounded like laughing, however the careless swipe of Roger's hand told him otherwise and he knew to not pursue the question any further, and so he walked to the rather out-of-place airing cupboard to retrieve a thin, worn out blanket for his obviously cold friend, however Roger would have to live with the rain-water, Mark wasn't particularly in mood for trying to dry the rocker off _If it looks like I'm laughing I'm really just asking to leave this alone._

A couple of nights later and Roger had decided he would go out again, this time to a strip joint that Squeegee Man had told him about, it was called the CatScratch Club, filled with gorgeous women and cheap booze, Roger's idea of heaven… heck it was any man's idea of heaven. So whilst Mark was out filming the streets of Avenue A Roger had left for a night in the club. _You're in time for the show._

The performance of the night had just started, starring one of the finest Cat's at the Club, known only as The Feline of Avenue B. Roger's eyes could not leave the woman, bound in a pair of handcuffs as she writhed around the stage, as though she was in some sort of sexual strife. Could this woman be the woman of his dreams, he though as he watched her body, which had obviously been deprived of food, snake elegantly around the stage, he also noticed that although he was watching her with need and desire, she was watching the crowd with disgust and disdain evident in her brown eyes. _You're the one that I need; I'm the one that you loathe._

Upon arriving home he knew at once that his best friend was already there, however this time round Mark said nothing, knowing that Roger didn't need any help with anything Roger's presence was in turn ignored and so the blonde rocker retreated to his bedroom, taking his beloved guitar with him, soon gentle notes were heard from the small room and Mark sighed unhappily. _You can watch me corrode like a beast in repose_

Three years ago Roger was on the verge of fame; three years ago Roger's band had been the hottest new band of Alphabet City, their bar gigs usually brought in the crowds; three years ago Roger had met April. Two years ago April introduced Roger to heroin; two years ago Roger's band fell apart. One year ago April found she was HIV+; one year ago April committed suicide; one year ago Roger found out he was HIV+; one year ago Roger's life fell apart. Now, drugs had their grip on Roger. _Cause I love all the poison, away with the boys in the band._

Every time Mark though that Roger had sorted everything out he came back even worse than before. Not only that but he had also lost his girlfriend, to another woman. Everything had started to take its toll on Mark and now because of that he was becoming distant to Roger, whose life was a series of ups and downs. _I've really been on a bender and it shows,_

The next night Roger decided to go back to the CatScratch Club, in hopes of seeing that exotic dancer in the handcuffs. Which he did, again in the handcuffs, this time changing the dance routine around, adding a chair and a few more, younger dancers. After the performance The Feline of Avenue B caught his eye and he blew her kiss, the dancers eyes widened and she look towards what appeared to be the manager, a middle aged woman, dressed in the most extravagant apparel possible, before she quickly blew him a kiss and scurried after the middle-aged woman. _So why don't you blow me a kiss before she goes?_

This time, when Roger arrived back at 'The Loft' he realized Mark wasn't anywhere to be found, heading towards the Kitchen area he found a note, Mark's scrawl clearly read

'_Roger,_

_Gone to help Maureen with her Sound System_

_Mark_

Roger sighed and wandered around the room, his eyes falling upon the cupboard containing his stash of alcohol, there was no reason for it not to be there: Mark wasn't the biggest of drinkers.

At around midnight Mark was still not back from Maureen's, he had probably slept on their couch for the night. Joanne hated having people walk home so late at night. By this time Roger was so out of it he barely realized that Mark was nowhere in sight, only moving his body in order to answer the door that had been recently knocked upon. The woman he answered it too was at least 6 inches shorter than himself, her waist-length waved brown hair shone in the moonlight, her sparkling dark brown eyes showed him places he never wanted to go again.

He didn't register her name, even when it was told to him. All he could remember was a needle and a blurry haven. _Give me a shot to remember,_

Roger's vision focused and unfocused at random intervals, the woman was still with him, her own state seemed just as bad, and yet they both laughed merrily, at what they did not know but it made them feel better. _And you can take all the pain away from me._

The next thing he knew, his lips were captured in a passionate kiss, the woman's moving softly against his, her tongue begging for entrance, to which he granted. Neither person knew what they were doing, nor why they were doing it, whether just a passionate fling or whether it could lead to more they did not know, they merely knew it felt good. _A kiss and I will surrender,_

Both people knew their lives were messy. At this point in their lives drugs and sex seemed like the best way to go. It was a shame really that at the time Roger had forgotten he had HIV and the pair had forgotten to use protection. It was a shame that they hadn't realized what this one-night thing could lead to. _The sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead._

The mysterious woman lit a cigarette, holding it to Roger's lips, allowing him to take a long drag before taking one herself. Soon the bed began to bore them; they relocated themselves to the living area, the woman setting herself upon the counter top, casually moving a few cups and old newspapers aside. Roger flopped onto the couch. Soon enough the woman complained of the cold and together the found a bunch of papers and light a fire. _A light to burn all the empires._

The woman stayed with Roger until the daylight began to show itself. However half-way through the night it seemed as though the sun would never rise, as though the flames from their home-made fire were so bright that the sun was too ashamed to try and compete with them. At least, that's what they told themselves. _So bright the sun is ashamed to rise and be._

Roger told the stories of vampires and werewolves, making each tale sound as dramatic as possible, maybe he wanted to impress this woman, whose name he did not know. To be honest he wasn't sure he cared as long as it meant he had someone like him to talk to, even if what he was talking about made not much sense. One story he told spoke of a vampire he had fallen in love with, he made her sound as beautiful as he could, skin as pale as the moonlight, waist length hair the colour of a raven's darkest feather, eyes as blue as the most perfect ocean. _In love with all of these vampires_

Soon enough the Sun did rise, apparently it wasn't ashamed anymore, the naturally light seemed to scare off Roger's tales of beautiful vampires and the young woman had left. He never did end up getting her name; instead it was only her eyes that he remembered of her. Mark has come back; he knew in an instant what Roger had been up to and he had yelled, none of it seemed to be getting through to Roger. So Mark left again, just like the woman had done, just like Roger's sanity had done. _So you can leave like the sane abandoned me_

A week later and Roger was again visiting the CatScratch Club, again looking for that exotic dancer who had blown a kiss to him. He looked around at the other patrons of the club, they were howling and cat-calling every woman who danced on that stage, and even a few women who were just serving. _There's a place in the dark where the animals go_

There was a new dancer on the stage tonight, they called her Juliet. True to the name she was dressed in a medieval get-up, the men looked disappointed until the gown slowly began to come off, revealing under it a rather slinky outfit as the woman maneuvered herself around the stage, winking seductively at any man with a wad of cash in his hand. _You can take off your skin in the cannibal glow._

Whereas the Feline of Avenue B looked upon the crowd with disgust this woman looked with excitement dancing in her make-up covered eyes. Roger looked the girl up and down, knowing that she couldn't have been more then 16 years of age, her life looked over before it had begun if this was the way she was making money. She seemed happy enough though, her eyes looked lustful now as she walked off the stage and around all the men, running her hands over chests and faces. _Juliet loves the beat and the lust it commands_

When she came towards him his guard was up, he didn't feel as though he wanted her to touch him. However looking into her eyes and seeing the lust and beauty of her facial features softened his hard façade. Soon he was howling with the men, ready for more and yearning to see more. Juliet's slot was already over and the light's dimmed, an announcer told them of the arrival of The Feline of Avenue A and the cat-calls got louder. She masked her disgust well and the slinked around the stage, claiming the money of the men around her, one of those men being Roger. _Drop the dagger and lather the blood on your hands Romeo_

Roger returned home at about 2.00am, Mark was already asleep. This time Roger wasn't plastered, neither was his body full of drugs, he was tired but he couldn't get the look of disgust from that woman's eyes out of his mind. Those eyes reminded him of someone but he couldn't remember who. He's been thinking all night, thinking about he could change, how he could make that woman stop giving him that look. Well first off he would stop going to that club to gawk at the half-naked women. The second was the hardest.

He looked at the packet in his hand, the white powder tumbled in it closed environment. Giving a deep sigh he threw the now opened packet out of the window, watching it and its contents fall dismally to the ground.

Next he found a pen and a piece of paper, scribbling a note to Mark containing this message

'_Mark,_

_It's over, the pain, the dependency is over. No I haven't ended my life but I have given up what was._

_I'll see you again in a few months time._

_Roger'_

He grabbed his guitar and packed a small case of clothes, throwing his lucky leather jacket on he made his way down the street.

That night, Roger Davis checked himself into rehab.

'_P.S_

_The Sharpest Lives Are The Deadliest To Lead'_


End file.
